Color
by thousandyearflower
Summary: There is a saying, back where I came from. "Tragedy is the exhibition of the shattered form of beautiful things."
1. Chapter 1

**AN: OC/Self-Insert via reincarnation. Old and a rip-off, I know, but hey, stick with me and see if you like it?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.**

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Haiko. Grey child.

When the woman I only remembered as warmth and Mother gave me that name, my world was black and white, green and blue. Everything else in between was different shades of grey.

Such a fitting name.

When I was born, the first thing I registered was that I did not know where I was, nor how I came to be here. Vague memories of a colourful life past flashed through my mind's eye, but it caused a great big headache and I did what most babies do when they're in pain: I opened my mouth and wailed.

Inexplicably, I had the memories of another life, in a world fuelled by mechanics and technology, but I did not mention it to Mother, nor did I like referring to those memories as my 'past life'. I chose not to think of them as much as possible. Most of the information did not seem to apply to wherever I am now, anyway.

I was born at home, secluded. I do not recall seeing any wall that resembled the white tiles of a hospital.

Being reborn, as I came to realise, was not fun. My mind could not think past three sentences, I couldn't control my own physical body. I knew what to move to pick up that blanket, but I had no muscle memory of it. I knew all the syllables of my own name, but my tongue would not roll in the right way. Mother did everything for me, and I felt ashamed.

My first year of my new life was filled with desperate attempts to regain mobility and control over my own body, and relearn communication. I tried to used my hands for everything, and spent the year doing finger exercises and learning hand-eye coordination. It wasn't easy, trying to force my chubby, unresponsive fingers into a fist, much less the peace sign. My muscles had nothing, nothing at all. They were flappy, and I couldn't even sit up.

What followed was Mother keeping a very close eye on me for the first few months, because I kept tripping and falling and getting bruises. Once I nearly toppled out of the crib, I laughed myself silly when Mother leapt right the crib.

When I finally learned to control my movements and began to crawl and eventually, walk, Mother was so delighted she threw me up and caught me again.

My next step in regaining my control was learning how to talk, and write, and expand my train of thought. I had a small grasp of my language from all the times Mother spoke to me, guessing the meanings of her obscure words. A child's brain was surprisingly very one-track,

When I turned one, Mother began to teach me to talk in the bizarre, chopped language. Its syllables were short and hard, yet when stringed into a sentence it had a sense of exotic beauty, and the green swirled if I said the right words. She brought me a brush and ink pot on my birthday and to my surprise, started to teach me how to write what she called 'kanji', or what I knew to be Mandarin characters. It came easy to me, having learnt calligraphy and drew the similarities, but I made some funny mistakes that made Mother look at me oddly.

Other than calligraphy, she also taught me to draw ink art. There's something magical, I believed, in the way the brush flowed over the paper and drew out those clear lines on the stark white paper and formed beautiful pictures. Mother loved to draw swirls.

"Uzumaki," she had said, drawing a pretty little swirl with a small tail. Then, "Konoha." she said fondly, adding a small accessory on the opposite side of the tail. The result was a pretty little symbol that looked like a leaf. I smiled and learnt it immediately.

Looking back, that should have been my cue.

From the day I could see clearly, I had a gut feeling that something was off. There was the green wisp-like substance that floated around the house, outside the house, around Mother and me. It wasn't tangible, because I tried catching it in my hands during one of those times where I got bored of falling. It slipped, and it was like trying to catch mist.

Attempts always left me strangely fatigued afterwards.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I looked at Mother and saw, instead of dark hair and pale skin and greyscale clothes, a cluster of blue flame.

Trying to navigate myself with my vision clogged with green was a hard task, as they sometimes obstructed my line of sight. I would trip over flat ground while walking, or reach for something that wasn't there.

Mother picked it up, and whenever she saw me doing such things, she would frown heavily.

Eventually I asked, and Mother frowned deeply. After wheat remed like an internal debate, she told me that what I was seeing, both the green and blue, was an energy called _chakra_. After that, she started to teach me chakra control, which was basically how to manipulate the blue flame, and gave me scrolls after she taught me how to read.

A few months after she started giving me lessons, I begun to see the blue more often, and as thick veins instead of a cluster. Mother laughed and ruffled my hair, then praised me for my improvement.

We lived in a little wooden cottage, the kind of picturesque one with the hay-thatched roof and the bamboo backyard, and we lived away from society. Our cottage was more of a hut, really, it was twice as long as it was tall. We had a little herb garden at the back, and there Mother taught me about herbs and medicine, and I soaked it all up.

Mother was pretty in a very oriental way: black hair, sharp chin, slim lips and almond eyes. Whenever she smiled all my anxieties faded and I saw only her and our cottage, and in childish innocence I thought there were only us in the world.

In my world, Mother's eyes were white. And by my old knowledge, white eyes are not normal. Did I have them too? But there were no mirrors in the house. She had graceful looping lines in the shape of butterflies that surrounded her accentuated her white eyes, which I did not like. When I asked whether I, too, had white eyes, she simply smiled and tapped the side of my eyes, saying, "It's a pretty trait, Haiko."

I took it to mean it was hereditary, and that I had them too.

* * *

I should have known it would not last.

* * *

It was a normal day, Mother giving me the normal lessons (calligraphy, chakra control and language) and telling me stories that were filled with strange people that could spit earth, breathe fire, twist water and command wind. They could cover miles with a single leap, and travel at speeds of light.

Needless to say I looked up to them, but strangely I did not aspire to be them. Mother had somehow associated their life with danger, what with all those things in her stories. In hindsight, she must have wished me a life away from the horrors of shinobi, though sad that I did not follow through with the request.

She made dinner, teaching me a few culinary tricks, though I was not yet tall enough to reach the tabletop without standing on a stool.

I was finishing the soup (it had ginseng and it made me cringe) when there was a loud rustling noise from behind the house. I took no notice, a particularly strong wind could make the same noise.

But Mother didn't think so.

She was alert at once, more than I had ever seen her, more than when I almost fell into the lake some ways behind the house. She glanced backwards ever so often, and at another of those rustles which I had now picked up to be too frequent to be merely wind, Mother walked out to the backyard, and I noticed the markings around her eyes expanding with crawling intricate lines into two large butterfly wings, one for each eye.

The green in the house shivered with anxiety.

A few minutes later she returned, her eyes a bright green, and turning back to white as the lines retreated back into their original shape and size, her color significantly paler than before. She smiled at me, a little tight, and said, "Haiko, go to your room and take the black backpack."

She was ever only straightforward with me. She did none of the mollycoddling most mothers do to their children. Maybe because she sensed my intelligence, maybe because she realized I could understand like an adult, maybe because she's just that way. She never mentioned it, but I knew the black backpack was for emergencies. I had peeked into it once, and it contained first aid, dry provisions, packets of water.

To be asking for that now meant something big was happening.

I did not question her, merely wriggled off the chair and made for my room.

When I ran down back to the living room, Mother had also a backpack and was in a gear I had never seen before. And it solidified a gnawing suspicion in my mind.

I had never asked where we stayed, and we never ran out of food, so I never found the need to ask, assuming Mother had her own reasons, also partially because I was afraid of the answer.

Mother wore a flak jacket. I never found out what a flak jacket actually meant, neither in my previous existence nor this one, but I assumed the ash grey sleeveless jacket with the many chest pockets to be a flak jacket. She had a black undershirt that had a bright grey swirl on the shoulder, and dark grey pants wrapped in bandages near the ankles, where she tucked it all into toe-less sandles.

I swallowed. The stories and chakra should have been enough of a signal, but I didn't want to believe.

Who wanted to admit they were reborn into an assassin's world?

"Haiko," called Mother, opening her arms. I ran into them, and she enveloped me in a hug.

I did not want to think about what's going to happen next.

Mother smoothed my long black hair and started to murmur her mantra.

"Don't look at people in the eye, don't look into mirrors. Don't play with the green, don't pull out the blue. It's all for-"

"My own good, kaa-san, I know. I won't forget," I assured her.

Mother suddenly rummaged in her pockets, drawing out a scroll. She placed it in my backpack, and said, "Hold onto this. You'll meet someone who knows what to do with it. The provisions in the pack would last you a week, maybe more. Follow the path until you see a river, then follow the river down until you come to a house. Stay there and open the door to no one but me, okay?"

I nodded, and swallowing the lump in my throat.

Then Mother tensed, and without warning grabbed me and barrelled out of the house. Once clear of the porch, Mother pushed off from the ground and dove into the thick bamboo, clutching me tightly.

Not a moment too late, because there was a rush of heat, and the cottage where I had spent my two and a half years erupted into grey flames. Silhouettes flitted to and fro in the shadows caused by the fire.

Mother responded by taking me deeper into the bamboos.

Pushing through the thick patches of bamboo, Mother stopped by the bamboo shoots, and hugged me with an air of finality. "Stay alert, stay safe," she said, placing a kiss on the top of my head. "Now go. Follow the path. Don't look back."

The moon was out, and I could see the tiny path between the bamboo clearly, but Mother stood against the flames, and in the grey light of the fire, I could not see Mother's expression.

"Can't kaa-san come with me?" I asked, voice breaking.

She smiled bitterly, and opened her mouth to say something, but I never got to hear it, because she suddenly turned back to the hut and her face stoned, and at a sound I couldn't hear, hissed to me, "Run, Haiko!"

I jumped at her tone, and glimpsed the patterns around Mother's eyes crawl and spread across her face, before I turned tail and tripped down the trail.

I wasn't too far from the hut when a rough wind swept through the bamboo, making them creak and sway, and from behind me came the sounds of metal clashing. I pushed through the bamboos faster, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. All the green that had initially been floating around me suddenly tensed, and as though they were pulled, rushed back to where I came from.

I had read once: someone said that up close, an explosion was silent.

That was what happened then, and when the initial shockwave pushed me to the ground, the hellish heat rushed in to the vacuum created.

The bamboos around me burst into flames.

I scrambled up, covering my ringing ears with my hands, and ran.

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**AN: So. I've changed several details and stuff, but overall plot remains unchanged. Please post a review and tell me what you think! Of course, feel free to tell me where to improve as well, since I'm still young and writing style not-accomplished.**

**I don't own Naruto, as much as I want to. I can't even draw to save my life.**

**I also desperately need a beta for this story, if anyone's interested, please do drop a PM or review.**

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**_flower_**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I must say I changed the ending quite a bit, but again, plot line is same. Enjoy~(?)**

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**[First Person POV - Haiko]**

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What happened after the explosion was a blur, but I remember running away frantically then staring back at the blazing greyness that used to be my home, watching the hungry flames reach high up into the sky. Around the column of fire, the green swirled, almost feeding it.

* * *

After two days the winding dirt path led me out of the bamboo forest, and at its end I saw the river Mother had talked about. Daybreak was approaching, and I sat at the riverbank, taking out the provisions and nibbling on them. Giving a more thorough look through the backpack, I realised Mother must have been anticipating this.

Inside the pack was all the essentials one would need to survive out in the wild for some time. There were food, refillable water packs, rope, a change of clothes, even two grenades with their linchpin firmly in place, though I have no idea whether it was normal for a shinobi to have a grenade.

Mother's outfit swam to the forefront of my mind, but I pushed it away. I'll face my memories only when I absolutely have to.

* * *

The bamboo forest on my right gave way to a forest of trees after a few more days of trekking, and seeing that under the cover of leaves I could escape the sun and keep an eye on the river, I retreated into the shade.

The light grey yukata I wore was not suited for such endeavors, nor was the flat-soled sandles.

My provisions were running low.

I worried about where I was going to find food when there was a large rustle above me.

I froze.

With bated breath I looked up as discreetly as I could, but of course I could see nothing through the black-grey leaves or past the swirling green

I turned back to face the road, and took deep breaths. Freaking out now would do me no good, not after the efforts Mother made to keep me alive.

I touched my eyes. My vision was black and white, green and blue, and it had always been that way. According to my memories, however, the world should be colorful, like the chakra. Did I have a bloodline limit? Probably. No matter how you look at it, no one's eyes should be naturally white, except maybe the Hyūga.

I started to trot, and veered towards the open space beside the river.

The sounds of sharp things scraping on bark snaked into my ears, and I quickened my pace, frightened.

When I broke into a run, the rustling of the leaves became more pronounced, following me easily.

I was almost sure whoever was in there was baiting me. Shinobi, I knew, moved silently.

The trees soon gave way to a patch of clear ground.

There! A house!

It was grey roofed (it might be red or blue or canary yellow, I wouldn't know), with a metal door. Pipes that could be anything from waste disposal to electricity were taped haphazardly around its walls, and it was a mere few yards ahead of me.

Only, three shadows darted from the cover of trees and stilled in front of me, blocking my way.

I skidded to a stop, heart pounding. So close!

They were people wearing masks, porcelain ones by the reflection from the light, and it had weird wave-like patterns. The eye holes were nothing more than slits, and there were four squiggly lines on the forehead part of their mask.

I had a second to experience some twisted sense of relief because, hey, I knew where these people were from and their presence must mean they were hunting bloodline limits, which must mean at least the Second Shinobi War was long over.

I swallowed thickly, biting my lip.

I must have looked to be an easy kill, because the hunters walked — _walked _— to me. Hunter A said to Hunter B, "The Mizukage said all of them stone-turners have grey eyes, and this little girl has grey eyes. Didn't he say the ability skips generations?"

The other replied, as though I was deaf and could not understand them, "Whatever. They still carry the genes, even if the eyes don't manifest. Our orders were to kill, are you questioning the Mizukage?"

The third simply took off his mask, "Regardless, the fact remains that this little girl can't do what her mother did. We don't need to wear masks."

"Oh really?" said Hunter A, taking off his mask. "Thank god. The tunnel vision is driving me crazy."

"The village is short on hunters, can't blame the Mizukage," said Hunter B, taking off his mask as well.

The faces under the masks looked…normal. Normal, regular people you pass on the streets. Normal people with a face so generic and rudimentary they could be anybody. Normal people with a conscience and a family and kids and very much against child-killing.

Hunter A drew his sword as he walked towards me.

I glanced at the green that was now swirling, agitated. Mother's mantra floated to the forefront of my mind.

But this is a desperate situation, and desperate situations calls for desperate measures.

I had always been able to command the green wisps floating in the air, like making hem swirl faster, or pulling them so close together I could almost touch them. As for the blue, I found they were squishy, like dough. I could pull them however I want.

Looking at the hunter approaching me and the green that spun desperately around him, I somehow knew what to do. Chakra control, I thought, and when the not-hunter before me raised his sword, I grasped the green and, following my instincts, _pushed_.

I must say I was not prepared, not in the least, for the result.

As the green entered him (how did that happen?) his body stiffened, and his blue, like phagocytosis (why do I remember that?!). In my physical vision, the man turned one-shade and immobile. His face froze, the katana gleaming wicked sharp in his stiffened hand.

"Don't play with the green," Mother had said.

Oh.

"What?" cried one hunter, horrified, "Stone! But how?!"

"Die!" Hunter B charged me.

There wasn't time to think.

I grasped his blue, which was dancing and sputtering like a flame, tightly, and _pulled. _Stars popped in my vision and I felt my legs go wobbly as the hunter's steps faltered.

"Don't pull out the blue," Mother had said.

Oh this was turning out to be _very _interesting.

The man that was charging me burst, like spontaneous combustion, into bits of blood, skin and cloth, katana clattering uselessly onto the ground.

The third and last (I hope) hunter screamed in frustration and covered his eyes with his mask, and treated me like a real opponent. Translation: he travelled at ninja speeds.

I tightened the green along the ground, hoping they would do something, and I swayed on my feet.

The hunter must have not been a very good ninja, because he tripped. And because he tripped and I wasn't wishing for more gore to splatter my clothes I turned and tripping over my own two feet, I scrambled, as fast as I could, towards the house.

I didn't make three steps before a shadow fell over me. I glanced upwards, heart in my mouth, and stared straight through the holes into the eyes of the hunter behind the mask.

I heard the skin hardening into gravel, saw the blue of the hunter dissipating as it was drawn out of his body, felt the green's glee as they took back another life.

I crawled backwards, out of the looming shadow of the stone statue. A heartbeat later, it exploded, sending shrapnel scraping my cheeks. There was no blood.

I think I can guess why there were no mirrors in the cottage.

Heart pounding in the following silence I hurried into the house, fumbling with the door for a moment before throwing myself inside and slamming the door shut then fastening the bolt.

Collapsing against the closed door I tried to steady my breathing.

Then a wailing, a horrible, horrible wailing, started.

It was a drawn-out and unearthly caterwaul, issuing from everywhere at once, and I leapt off the door with a cry of dismay.

But it died down.

I stared, shaken, at the door, preparing my wildly beating heart for whatever shock that'll come next.

It didn't come, and I breathed again.

Turning away from the door, I started to explore the house.

It was more of a tiny warehouse, one-roomed. There was a single table tucked in a far corner with two mismatched wooden chairs. A vase stood in its center, with a wilted flower.

I walked over to the bookshelf tucked in the opposite corner. It had shelves stacked full of scrolls and thin, hand-bound books. On the spur of the moment, I shoved as much of those as I could into my backpack.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! _went the door.

I jumped, spinning to face the metal door.

"Open the door to no one but me," Mother had said.

That was one instruction I'm sticking to.

The banging stopped, but a moment later a force slammed into the metal door.

I looked about nervously.

There were no windows, except a skylight that let in some meagre light, enough to see by. However, the absence of windows also meant I could not lob the grenades out.

"Break it down, you lot!" A gruff, angry voice sounded above the grunts and thuds. "It's just a goddamned door!"

The door protested, its hinges creaking. I tiptoed to the centre of the little warehouse, and took calming breaths. Reaching into the backpack, I took out one of Mother's grenades, hooking a finger into the linchpin, then rifled through my memories for a tell-tale hint about how much pressure a metal, bolted door could handle.

Something about contact force and pressure and equations, and I quickly banished that train of thought.

"Break it down, you good-for-nothings!" There was the crack of a whip. I found the time to mentally sweat-drop. What, was that a slave driver out there? "Get that bitch done with!"

I looked at the grenade in my hand. I'm sure I read somewhere about the delayed denotation of the hand grenade. Maybe, if I timed it right, I would be able to turn at least the first wave of people into blood and mush. Then I wondered if I had enough skill to pitch the grenade into the face of the guy who called me a bitch.

The door creaked harder, and a dent appeared.

Then suddenly the pressure on the door eased, and there was silence outside.

I took a cautious step forward, straining to hear.

Screams erupted with such suddenness and ferocity that I lurched back from the metal door, finger gently testing the speed at which I could pull the linchpin. I could here muttered phrases of horror, mostly "No!" and "Help!".

Hm. They must be hired muscle.

The silence that eventually came was broken when someone knocked. _Knocked_.

Then he spoke, "Senko, open up!"

Mother's name was Senko. It was the second set of kanji she taught me to write, after my own name. "Pretty, isn't it?" she said, about her own name. "Narcissist," I laughed.

Bile rose in my throat at the reference. Like hell he knew my mother!

I kept my mouth shut, fuming silently.

The person on the other side of the door sighed.

"Look, you can stay in there and open the door for me, or you can stay in there and watch me break down the door."

I pulled out the linchpin, let go of the handle, and watched the delay carefully, not answering.

Five.

Four.

Three.

There was a loud, finger-nail-one-blackboard creak, and the door sagged on its hinges.

Two.

The door swung open with a clang, hanging off the higher hinge.

One.

I lobbed the grenade.

There was shout of "Whoa!" and a flash. I pressed my hands into my stinging eyes, feeling tears starting to form.

"My my Senko-san, you really love flash-bombs," said the voice. "I think you have the misconception that all people are adverse to such things."

I forced my eyes open, blinking away the grey afterimages.

What I saw made a stone drop in my heart.

Jiraiya, the Toad Sage Jiraiya, was standing in the doorway, the background littered with dead bodies. He had his eyes closed, and a small orange toad squatted on his shoulder. The red markings under his eyes had not yet fully reached his chin. On his forehead was a headband, and on the metal plate was the little swirly leaf Mother had taught me to draw.

What he wore…all I could see was grey.

Grey shirt, grey leggings, grey haori decorated with grey circles. Grey fishnet undershirt, grey geta.

I stood, feeling my eyes pop.

"Senko?" he asked, when I didn't answer.

"The kid's just staring at'chu, boss," croaked the toad. It wouldn't happen to be a summon? "Shouldn' we be packing her up n' going now, boss?"

"Wait, Senko isn't here?" Jiraiya frowned.

"Nope," the toad glanced around once more. "Just the kid."

A grim sort of silence fell as realisation dawned on him, then Jiraiya sighed.

"And here I was, wondering why there were thugs outside," he turned his closed eyes downwards. "A kid, you say, Gamabunta? Where is she?"

How did he know?

"Right before you," answered the toad. "She looks horrified. She's actually crying."

"It's because of the flash-bomb!" I snapped without thinking, then clapped a hand over my mouth.

"Wha…it really is a girl!" Jiraiya said, raising his eyebrows, "Hello, Haiko! Do you know what happened to Sen—your mother?"

I nodded, feeling a lump rise in my throat. I swallowed it. There's no use crying.

"The kid nodded, boss," croaked Gamabunta. "Senko hasn't been to this place in years, nor anywhere around it. I don't sense any residue of her chakra."

Jiraiya pursed his lips.

"Here," he finally said, pulling a strip of black cloth from his pouch. "Tie this around your eyes."

I eyed it warily. "Why." It wasn't a question.

"Those three outside, I know a bloodline when I see it," said Jiraiya simply. "And I can't take you back to the village if I can't open my eyes."

I took it reluctantly and knotted it at the back of my head.

"Did she put on the blindfold?"

"Yes," croaked the toad.

The blindfold did not completely block my vision, so I could still vaguely see my surroundings. Through the blindfold, the blue veins that was Jiraiya had dimmed and the green that was normally abundant had lessened in number as well.

"What village?" I asked, though I had an inkling of the answer.

"Your mother build this place and the alarm so that if anything happened to the cottage, there would still be another safe house," said Jiraiya, avoiding the question and opening his eyes to look for me.

"The alarm?" I echoed.

"That god awful wailing, you can't've missed it," answered the toad, folding his arms.

Oh. So that's what it was.

"What village?" I repeated.

"The Village Hidden in the Leaves," said Jiraiya, having finally realized I was right in front of him. "Surely Senko's told you something about it?"

I couldn't see his face clearly.

"No, " I said, then took a deep breath. "In fact, who are you? Why are you helping me? Where did you come from? Why do you know kaa-san?"

"Whoa whoa," he held up both hands, palms out. "Hold your horses, one question at a time. This part of Fire's not safe for you anymore, so why don't we go back to the village, and I'll answer your questions on the way?"

"Actually, boss, you forgot something," Gamabunta supplied helpfully, "You can't answer her questions on the way. Haiko-chan just used her kekkei genkai. She's still young. She's definitely about to faint from that kind of chakra usage."

As though his voice was the trigger, a wave of exhaustion hit me like a truck.

I swayed dangerously.

"Oops," Jiraiya held me upright. "How about we get you someplace to rest first, little lady?"

I stubbornly clung to consciousness, even as my mind started to shut down. "Who..are you?"

Jiraiya's calming voice was the last I heard as my vision fizzed out of focus.

"I'm a friend."

* * *

**[Omniscient]**

Jiraiya caught the little girl when she swayed and fell.

He hadn't ever seen the girl, only heard of her through Senko's letters.

It's a miracle she was able to stand upright this long. If Senko really didn't come along with her daughter, those three Mist hunters outside was killed by this little girl, and that kind of chakra manipulation wasn't child's play.

Jiraiya frowned again, heavier than before.

For Senko to leave her daughter to fend for herself probably meant she was caught up in something big. How had the little girl made it so far by herself?

Jiraiya hoisted the little girl up onto his shoulders, Gamabunta dismissing himself in a puff of smoke.

He's really got to start thinking in names now.

Senko…must have been caught back at the cottage. If she had lived she would've been there to clear out the thugs for her daughter.

He'll come back here to clean things up a bit soon.

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**AN: Again, Naruto does not belong to me. I know placing a disclaimer at the end is unusual, but i don't want to spoil the beginning.**

**Haiko's vision is black and white, and if you can't imagine what it's like, think monochrome vision or color blindness with the exception of green and blue, and what they are most of you canon-followers should have realised. XP**

**Also, just for fun, here's the kanji for both Haiko and Senko.**

**Haiko - 灰子, literally 'ash/grey child'**

**Senko - 泉子, literally 'spring child'**

**Drop a review if you like it!**

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**_flower_**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Disclaimer, Naruto doesn't belong to me, only silent little Haiko.**

**Side note, those that like art and beautiful wallpapers in general, check out the artist/mangaka called Ibuki Satsuki, she (I think) has an account on zerochan! Please please please, check it out, she drew like a total of 3 Sesshomaru pictures, and I absolutely loved them~!**

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**[Omniscent]**

The nurse ticked something off her clipboard then hung it back onto the bed railings, slipping the pen into her chest pocket. She turned to the Toad Sage.

"The patient's chakra was almost entirely exhausted, but she is recovering at an extremely fast rate, and should be waking up in a few more days," the nurse placed a hand over a sleeping Haiko's eyes. "However I must caution against using those eyes again, even for normal sight. Make sure she has the specially created blindfold on at all times."

"Thank you," Jiraiya said to the nurse, an evident dismissal.

The nurse bowed and excused herself.

Jiraiya considered the little girl Senko had left behind. He would have to place the seal earlier on her than her mother and train her a just a little before time, it seemed.

* * *

**[First Person POV - Haiko]**

When I woke, my eyes were dry and they ached a little.

Gamabunta croaked almost immediately, "She's awake, boss!"

I looked around, squinting to see past the mesh over my eyes. I must have been out a long time, because I was now in a hospital bed, linked to beeping machines and IV drips.

The hospital had changed me into the white patients' clothes, and dressed my minor cuts and scratches.

Jiraiya was beside my bed in a visitor chair, and at Gamabunta croak jerked awake.

"Oh, Haiko-chan. I'll call the nurses right away," he got up from the chair and walked out the door.

A minute later, he was back with a doctor and a nurse in tow. He sat back down, twisting his neck this way and that, while the doctor checked the machines and nurse measured my heartbeat. They avoided looking at me as they worked.

Jiraiya filled me in as they worked, telling me that I was out for three days, during which he brought me back to Konoha and to the hospital. Chakra exhaustion, he said, was what knocked me out cold, He also told me the blindfold was to prevent a repeat of the incident with the hunters, as eye contact was needed, and the blindfold prevents other people from seeing my eyes.

"Though its better if you didn't actively seek out their's," Jiraiya smiled, holding out that same slip of black cloth.

The hospital staff left after informing I was in good health, and Jiraiya attempted to make small talk. I wasn't responsive, however, so he sulked out for lunch, Gamabunta disappearing with a laughing croak and a puff of smoke.

I stared up at the grey-white ceiling blankly, the past few days' events catching up to me.

Had really only been three days? Eating dinner with Mother at the dinner table, sitting in her lap waiting for her to read today's lessons, sitting cross-legged on the tatami mat with Mother teaching me how to blend energy to form more chakra, seemed like a light year ago.

And now?

Mother was dead.

I didn't even know her very well.

For her, I held no tears, just a silent, resigned acceptance.

I looked out the window and saw I was only a few stories up. Civilians milled in and out of my small window view, and the fact that I have just killed three people registered in my mind.

I felt a shiver go through me.

It didn't matter they were going to kill me, it didn't matter I had no other way of survival, it didn't matter that I didn't know what I was doing. I had murderedthem. The shock and terror and self-loathing I had read about (a long time ago) were not eating at me, nor was any other emotion except relief. I did not even feel guilty for the families I had torn apart with their deaths.

In fact, their deaths didn't seem to be attached to me. The action of killing them seemed far away and detached.

Outside the window, under the bright grey sunlight, the three faces of the Fire Shadow stared at me sternly.

I was in this world now, well and truly sucked into the whirlpool of things. I've set foot in a killers' village, so I've got to learn how to kill.

Better to kill merciless enemies than forced to kill helpless kittens in first-kill-breaking class. I snorted softly.

Then I slapped a hand onto my forehead. _Get a grip_, I thought.

* * *

Jiraiya never came back into the hospital room that day.

* * *

The next morning, having slept fitfully the last night, I woke with a start to knocks on the hospital room door.

"Is your blindfold on, ojou-chan? **(1)**" came a nurse's cautious call, before she rapped the door smartly again.

I nodded before I remembered she was outside, then said with a voice that surprised me with its hoarseness, "Yes." I cleared my throat.

The nurse opened the door with one hand then switched to pushing the door open with her back and shutting it the same way, since she had her hands full with a tray of food and a cup.

She placed them down on the bedside table, then turned to prop me up gently, careful not to disturb the drip lines.

"Here's your breakfast, after you finish place them back on the table and drink this medicine, okay?" she said soothingly, as though I was a scared animal that might bolt if she so much as raised her voice.

"What's in the medicine?" I asked.

The nurse blinked, surprised. "Just some vitamins and calming herbs. We can't have your chakra acting up, yes?"

I picked up the cup and swirled it, sizing up the contents inside.

"I'll have to leave for now. I'll come check up on you in half an hour, okay?"

I reached for the tray and picked up the hospital ratio. Eggs and sausages, complete with a slice of tomato.

I downed the cup of medicine in one gulp once I finished my breakfast. It felt weird, eating something western after two years of breakfasts of porridge. The medicine tasted like mineral water, complete with that metallic tinge.

Someone opened the door.

My grip on the cup tightened, then loosened when it was just Jiraiya who came through.

"So," he grinned, "How're you liking it here?"

"You never told me your name," I said bluntly.

"Ahahaha," Jiraiya rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Well…" he shifted his pose, geta clanking on the floor, before proclaiming loudly. "I, Jiraiya, am the one and only, the awesome Toad Sage, the epitome of manliness!"

He did one of those weird horizontal hoppings with his geta kicking up a ruckus, but before I could say anything, a white hand descended on top of his head.

"Oi! D'you think she'll understand that rubbish? What are you teaching that kid!"

A pretty lady with grey hair a shade lighter than her skin stepped through the door, a twitching eyebrow in her fringe, holding her fist in front of her. She had her hair in two loose pigtails, and she wore a black top and black slacks and black sandals.

Jiraiya grabbed his head and curled into a ball on the ground.

Senju Tsunade stepped over Jiraiya's snivelling form, expression changing into a warm smile the moment she saw me.

"Hello, you're Haiko, right? I'm Senju Tsunade, that white-haired idiot's teammate. Nice to meet you!" she introduced.

I simply stared, and was tempted to reply: _to what do I owe this pleasure?_

"Ohya," said a new voice, raspy and dry. "Who discarded a dirty white fur-ball?"

The newcomer nudged Jiraiya with his foot, and the former jumped up with a loud, "OI!"

"That," said Tsunade, gesturing to the black-haired newcomer's scuffle with Jiraiya like it was a daily occurrence, "is our other teammate, Orochimaru."

What little green I could see swirled around my hand as I unconsciously gripped the cup tighter, and with a sharp splintering sound, the ceramic cup shattered.

Surprised and pained as the cup's fragments cut into my palm, I dropped it with a sharp hiss.

Tsunade turned around, surprised, and I felt more than saw her eyes widen and her body stiffen as she saw what must have been stark red against white sheets.

To me, the trickles of blood from the numerous cuts was merely a deeper shade of grey.

But when did my grip get firm enough to break ceramic?

Remembering Tsunade was hemophobic, I hurriedly stuck my hand under the sheets and folded the sheets, covering the bloodstains.

Orochimaru was the first to notice. His tongue flicked out once, then he strode over and took Tsunade's shoulders firmly, guiding her from the room. Passing Jiraiya, he whispered something in his ear.

Coming over to me, Jiraiya took my hand and tsked once he saw the damage.

"We've got to get that bandaged, I'll get the kit," he said.

Taking the white first aid box from a corner, he sat down beside the bed and began to dress my wound.

Once the fuss was over, my hand had been cleaned and wrapped in tight bandages.

Jiraiya sighed, sitting back, rolling up the bandages. Orochimaru had came back, and was now leaning against the doorframe, observing.

"Honestly, Haiko," Jiraiya sighed again, "don't make getting hurt on the first day a habit, okay?"

"It was the second day," I muttered, cradling my hand. The pain came in waves, dying down when I kept the hand still and rearing back to life when I so much as twitched it.

Jiraiya eyed me out of the corner of his eyes and huffed.

Orochimaru's tongue flicked out once, then he stepped out of the room, pausing only to say, "I can still taste the blood in the air. I'll call the nurses to change the sheets, least Tsunade freaks again."

He can taste smells?

The nurses came in after a while, tut-tutting at my clumsiness. They whisked away the bloodied sheets and cleaned up the shattered ceramic and took away the breakfast tray. They also said as a punishment for me being careless, they won't be healing it for me.

Jiraiya leaned back, his chair creaking, and cleared his throat. "The point of us coming here was to let you know that all three of us would be out of the village for a while, and someone else would be in charge of your transfer to a private orphanage."

I had been examining my hand, and at the word 'orphanage' my head snapped up.

I should have seen it coming.

"Ah, well," Jiraiya backtracked immediately. "It'll be temporary, and we'll visit you as much as we can so don't think we're abandoning you there! The orphanage's nice, too!"

Orochimaru stepped back into the room with Tsunade. Upon hearing what Jiraiya was saying, both fixed him with suspicious looks.

Tsunade smiled sweetly at me as though nothing happened, and while Orochimaru steered Jiraiya out of the door firmly amidst the latter's loud protests, she placed a hand on my head and said, ruffling my hair, "See you soon!" and left with her teammates.

* * *

True to their words, none of the three came to the hospital again after that morning.

On the fourth day of my hospitalization, the nurse that I had come to recognize walked through the door without the omnipresent tray.

She clapped her hands together and said cheerfully, "Congratulations! You are now fit to be discharged from the hospital!" She came over and started to take out the numerous needles I still have plugged into me, helped me out of the bed and back into the my freshly-washed clothes.

"Excuse me, miss," I said quietly, and she smiled.

"Yes?"

"Who's signing the release papers?"

The nurse stopped, gesturing to the door. "He should be coming soon, right after he finishes downstairs."

As though her words were the cue, the room door slid open, and a man walked through, saying thank you to a nurse and handing her some papers.

The man who stepped in looked to be around his forties, with a long spiked white hair tied into a ponytail, and kind black eyes. He wore the generic outfit for Leaf ninja, the blue undershirt and flak jacket, complete with standard Leaf headband. There was a white sleeve on his left arm, with three greyish-black patterns at its hem.

He reminded me of Jiraiya, and what little green I could see immediately started to swirl around him, almost welcoming his presence.

He looked around the room and saw me. "Ah!" he said, "So you're Haiko, yes?"

I nodded, and took the pack the nurse handed me.

"Thank you for coming to get her," the nurse bowed. "I heard Jiraiya-sama is busy."

"It's nothing," the man smiled and thanked her as well.

"Well I'll leave Haiko in your care," the nurse bowed once more before exiting the room.

I had to tilt my head to look at up the man, he was so tall.

Or was it me who was too short?

At any rate, the fact still stands that I'm only a little above his knees.

Studying his face, or what I could see of his face, I tried to match it with a name and when I drew a blank, pondered the option that I didn't know this character. Then he bent down to my level with a smile.

"Hello," he said, "My name's Hatake Sakumo. Nice to meet you."

* * *

Maybe it was the shock that it was the hero of Leaf, the_ White Fang of Konoha_, who was holding my ridiculously small hand and leading me through the streets, that I didn't register most of our short stroll through the village until we veered off the main road and started to scrunch down another path.

It was a well-worn dirt path that branched from the main road and snaked through a small patch of trees where it emerged into a clear space with a homely-looking longhouse.

A nun was standing outside the front door, evidently as welcome.

She was kind-faced, with pretty mouse blond hair. She wore a white apron over a black robe, had a white coif that almost covered her hair and a pair of round Harry Potter glasses sat on her nose. Sakumo conversed with her in hushed voices for a little while when we reached, and I caught just enough to know Sakumo was giving the nun a watered down version of what happened to me and explaining why she shouldn't take my blindfold off or keep mirrors around. Already a tiny bit freaked at how much Sakumo knew, a word that the nun said made me flinch.

Orphan. I was an orphan.

Guess I'm still not used to that term being applied to me.

He left then, with the parting words to the nun to make sure the blindfold was never taken off and a cheerful smile my way.

When he disappeared into the trees, the nun smiled warmly at me, "Hello Haiko-chan, my name is Yakushi Nonō. You can call me Mother. You'll be living in my orphanage for now, okay?"

I nodded unhappily, not yet registering the name, ignoring the hand she extended to me, not planning to call her Mother at all.

Stepping reluctantly through the orphanage doors, I frowned a little. Bad things happened to children in orphanages.

_Hope whatever Jiraiya was talking about comes soon_, I thought.

* * *

My room in the orphanage was pre-arranged, and my belongings, which was only the black backpack, were already placed neatly in a corner. The room sported a window above a single bed, where my clothing from before was stacked neatly. It had a little low desk, the kind that had the person kneel, and a small lamp for reading.

All in all a rather homely room, but I was not sure what to make of the rest of the orphanage.

It was definitely not Oliver Twist, for which I was glad. It was wooden, through and through, the whole place very rural. The staff did periodic cleanings of the place, but daily cleaning was done by the children of the orphanage. As Nonō says, "You'll have to earn your keep!" 

The other kids did not like me. I did not join in on their childish play, nor did I entertain their short attention span. I simply turned my 'unseeing' eyes in their direction whenever they called me, and I guess the sight of a blindfolded girl staring like she could see was a little too unnerving for the other kids. Soon they avoided me like the plague, and I was fine with it.

The staff kept well away from me, with the exception of Nonō. Just because I couldn't see them clearly didn't mean I couldn't hear them, and they talked very loudly behind my back. Maybe it was because of my cool indifference to all the daily happenings around me, or the fact that I ignore and to an extent, intimidate, the other orphanage children, or because of my weird blindfold, they did not like me.

Nonō alone talked to me, and she alone treated me nicely, so naturally I liked her more than the other staff. Because I was exempted from the normal duties of a child as Nonō did not want my blindfold falling off in the middle of doing kitchen work and blasting the kitchen staff to bits and suffering another chakra exhaustion, I had a lot of free time on my hands. All I had to do was to be in the dining hall for three meals a day and the rest was free time.

So Nonō taught me chakra control exercises, much like how Mother did, and a number of other chakra related things, whenever she had time, though I suspected Jiraiya or Sakumo had something to do with it.

There were exercises that required mental work, there were homework assignments where she gave me scrolls to read, there were exercises that had me stick stuff to myself. It didn't matter where, as long as I stuck something. One exercise that stood out to me was to collect chakra at different body parts and keep them there, or the opposite, puling chakra back from a body part and keeping a tight hold on the chakra.

She also gave me lessons on medical ninjutsu, because she said my control was exceptional.

Mother had told me many times that for me, good chakra control meant that I saw the green as individual strands of energy in the air, and the blue as coils and loops. For now, I was still seeing both as bunches of color.

But I learnt what I was taught.

If I had to describe the Mystical Palm Technique in its early stages, I'd say it was much like piecing together a large puzzle with tiny pieces. The medic sends their chakra into the patient, seeks out the problem, and smooth out the cells in it, placing everything back to its normal function, and one mistake could a systemic collapse of the patient's internal system and wounded area, which was why all iryōnin required perfect chakra control. One setback was that medical ninjutsu could not be used to completely heal an injury, the last lap of the race still had to be run by the body of the patient. Otherwise, the patient's body might loose its recuperative abilities.

Mostly, during my copious amounts of free time I puzzled over the scrolls I salvaged from the safe house. They wouldn't open, no matter how i peeled at the covers of the scrolls.

A week into my stay I decided to try something I vaguely remembered, based off Nonō's chakra control lessons.

I gathered chakra to my fingers, and pushed them out in a thin line. Opening my eyes to attach the five blue strings to scrolls scattered around my room, I started to organize them. It took a while and the strings kept breaking or fizzing out, but eventually I managed to stack them on top of another in a neat pile at a corner of the desk. When I was done I let the chakra strings fizz out, and jumped when applause sounded behind me.

Nonō was standing at the door, Tsunade slack-jawed as she watched, still in battle gear.

For a minute I was scared I did something wrong, but then she laughed and came over to ruffle my hair, leaning down to my level, "Wow, when did you learn this?"

"I read about it," I said honestly. Chakra strings, as far as I knew, was something not-Leaf to do.

Tsunade turned to Nonō, voice full of surprise, "But…how? She's still so young!"

Nonō shrugged noncommittally, "She's exceptionally talented."

Tsunade turned to me with new eyes.

I froze. Oh dear. Why hadn't the notion of over-performance occurred to me before?

* * *

After that both Nonō and Tsunade began to bring me books and scrolls that had words I didn't understand, even though I severely downplayed my progress. They taught me when they could, and I think the other children grew jealous of the attention I received.

Orochimaru and Jiraiya tagged along sometimes, giving me tips and miscellaneous advices whenever they felt like it. But that once that they both came, they stayed in the corner, watching Tsunade play with me and whispering among themselves.

After breakfast one fateful day that Nonō was out on what I understood to be diplomatic matters with regards to funding, a black-haired boy with a smudge on his nose called out to me.

"Oi, you!"

I paused mid-step, turning to look at him, then continued walking.

There was a smattering of footsteps, and when I turned around from placing the food tray at the kitchen counter he was right in my face.

"Who do you think you are?!" he began, and I stayed where I was solely out of curiosity for what kind of argument a four-year-old could conjure up. "You appear out of nowhere and now you're suddenly Nonō-nee-san's favourite? What sort of joke is this?!"

Ah, jealousy and envy, the complaints of a child.

I brushed past him, intending to head for the door and get back to my room and study. I had gotten the basics of iryōninjutsu somewhat steady, and I wanted to try a little something with the green, since it worked so well with the sparrow.

But the brunette boy caught my arm and shoved me roughly onto the ground.

Now we had the attention of the whole dining hall. I had made no friends in the orphanage, offered no one even a shred of friendship, so no one was coming to my rescue.

"Oi, I was talking to you, did you hear me?!"

I noted the bruise on my elbow, and making a mental note to ask Tsunade if I could train a little in self-defence, I wondered if medical ninjutsu could be used on such shallow wounds. Probably not, seeing that when I cut my hands on ceramic the nurses didn't heal it.

He was still shouting things at me, spit flying, but I had tuned out. It must have really pissed him off because the next I knew, a small hand was flying towards me, and reflexively I pulled on the green twisting around me to block his hand.

There was a crunch and a scream of pain, and as the green dispersed, his fractured hand swelled purple.

My eyes widened. I didn't mean to do that!

At his cry, the children around us started to chitter and some small kids even began to cry.

And the staff rushed to his rescue.

They shushed the smaller ones and led the others out of the dining hall, and one nurse tutted upon looking at the brunette's hand. None came to help me up, and I stood up myself, dusting off my yukata.

"What did you do?" the nurse holding the brunette's hand turned accusing eyes on me. "How will you apologise for this?"

I looked at the nurse, thought of all the things I could say, then looked at her a bit longer just to creep her out, and walked away.

I think whenever Nonō is out, I'll skip meals.

* * *

A day after the incident, Nonō knocked on my door as I was reading.

"I'm coming in," she said, and the door opened as I tied up the blindfold.

She walked in, holding a dark yukata and a stern expression.

"I would reprimand you for what you did yesterday," she began, and I bristled. It wasn't entirely my fault! But she continued, "I've already talked to Hoen-kun, and he says he's sorry, though I did not come today for this matter."

She held out the yukata to me, laying it out on the bed. "You're wearing this today."

I had a sinking feeling. "What color is it, Nonō-san?"

"Black," she turned to me with sad eyes. "It's your mother's funeral today, Haiko-chan. They found her body."

* * *

Three weeks.

That was how long I had stayed in the orphanage, and how long they took to organize a funeral.

Tsunade and Jiraiya were waiting outside the orphanage when I came out, all in black. I almost didn't see them, if not for their bright greyish hair.

The smile Tsunade gave me was a ghost of what it was in the past few days. Another woman was standing behind her, I realised, with close cropped black hair reaching past her chin in the front, just brushing her neck in the back, a choppy fringe and black obsidian eyes.

She smiled hello.

I nodded in her direction, blindfold firmly on.

Jiraiya hung back to say something to Nonō as Tsunade took my hand and introduced me to the lady behind her, "This is Shizune. You can call her onee-san."

"Shizune-onee-san," I chirped obediently.

Then Jiraiya joined us, and chivvied us away.  


* * *

The sky was overcast, the air stuffy. The green drooped in their movements, sluggish and slow as they half-heartedly followed us.

We skidded around Konoha, choosing instead the forest paths. We rounded the main areas of human activity, and eventually came upon the cemetery.

Rows upon rows of flat stone pieces with the big statue of a circular flame at the end, Tsunade led me down an aisle to the very end, where other people were gathered.

I stopped, gaping in shock at the group of people gathered for Mother's wake. Their blue chakra flickered dully through the blindfold, a vague humanoid shape.

Tsunade tugged on my hand gently, and I followed her to the front of the small crowd of people. Many of them looked at us as we passed, though it was mostly at me.

We slid into the second row, and Orochimaru hissed to Tsunade, "What took you so long?"

"Doesn't matter, we're here," Tsunade whispered back to him.

Shizune took a place behind Tsunade.

Jiraiya glanced behind us, "Sakumo isn't going to make it, is he?"

"Sakumo is on a mission," Orochimaru said by way of explanation, then seemed to see me.

"Hello Haiko, I'd like to ask you how you are today, but now isn't really the time, yes?" he rasped, with a light smile.

I nodded my head, thinking how healthy he looked, without the sunken cheeks and leering gaze of his future.

Mother's picture was placed on the stone platform, wreathed in white roses. She was smiling in the picture, and had a Konoha headband on her forehead. The markings around her eyes were different from what I remembered. The Sandaime Hokage stood beside the picture, face grim under his hat.

The wake commenced.

As I looked at Mother's picture, I wished, for the first time in this life, that I could see colors, so that I could remember Mother as the person she was, not as a black-and-white print.

* * *

**AN: If any of you are wondering about Tsunade and Jiraiya being close to Haiko and doing so much for just a kid, it's because of obligation. Haiko doesn't know, but her mother, Senko, had been close friends to the Sannin, so the Sannin feels obliged to take care of the child once said friend was gone. Like the firemen pledge.**

**Side note, those who can guess what Team Hiruzen went to do gets a e-cookie and a hug!**

**(1) ojou-chan — means 'little girl', only more polite.**

* * *

**_flower_**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry it took so long! I might need to revise it a little, but for now, please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer. I don't own Naruto.**

**Oh and, I'm in serious need for a beta (will explain why below).**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

It was a simple funeral, with nothing fancy or elaborate, and close casket. Though I suppose, given the circumstances, I should be glad they had anything to bury.

Halfway through the funeral, Tsunade's grip on my hand tightened. I looked up to see her blinking hard. Turning to look at Jiraiya, his face was grim, the corners of his lips turned down. Orochimaru was a porcelain mask of a face, betraying no emotions.

When it was over, Tsunade hurriedly left with Shizune, leaving Orochimaru and Jiraiya to take me back to the orphanage. Nonō couldn't attend the funeral because she had to look after the children.

That night I had my first clear recollection of my previous life.

I had never realised that despite me knowing I had a previous existence, and remembering things, I actually had lots of holes in my memory.

Perhaps it was because the state of sleep was much like the state of death, the reception got through that night, so as to speak.

* * *

_The sling bag slapped against my thigh as I walked into class, selecting a seat near the back and pulling out my thesis. I was just settling into a comfortable reading position when Clarise dropped herself onto the table._

_"You're not wearing glasses today!" she cried, "Are you wearing contacts?"_

_"No," I said, flipping a page._

_"Are you sure you can see?"_

_"Yes."_

_"But how?"_

_"I wonder."_

_"Can you see this?" Clarise held up four fingers._

_"Yes."_

_"What is it?"_

_"It's a hand."_

_"I meant, how many fingers?"_

_I levelled a mild glare. "Five," I deadpanned._

_She gasped, "So you can't see!"_

_"I can!"_

_"But you said five!"_

_"IT WAS SARCASM."_

_"Oh."_

_She flopped into the seat next to mine, changing the subject, "How's your thesis coming along?"_

_"It'll be a lot better without Vanessa watching anime in the next room and making me jealous, or her cat shedding fur all over my room," I huffed, scribbling down notes in the margins. "You sound like my teacher."_

_Clarise laughed, but at that moment the lecturer walked in so we stopped talking._

_The lecture was on the themes and its similarity with folklore on the three witches in Shakespeare's MacBeth, and was an optional lecture for those of my major._

_When class was dismissed Clarise bounced up (she hadn't brought any books) and pulled me towards the cafeteria. When we were seated nicely with coffee and cheese cakes she started hounding me again._

_"I've seen you switch on and off on glasses, I thought you were wearing contacts those times. You really weren't?"_

_I sighed._

_"I've been receiving treatment for my myopia, it's currently under progress, thus the lack of glasses or contacts."_

_"Oh," she said, spearing a piece of cake and changing the topic, "Brandon is playing Oberon in the upcoming play, you going?"_

_I choked on my coffee._

_"Brandon is playing Oberon?" I started to laugh. "Like, the Fairy King? Really? That's gonna be rich! Which play?"_

_"A Midsummer Night's Dream."_

_"Is he gonna have shiny wings?"_

_"Probably," Clarise started to grin, "With ass-length hair and dangly earrings. __I take it that you'll be going then?"_

_"You bet! This is SO blackmail material!__"_

* * *

I was plagued by no more dreams that night, and when I woke up in the morning with a throbbing headache it was almost noon. Strange for me to sleep in, though.

"Breakfast," Nonō knocked on the door before coming in. "Don't get used to this, today's only an exception."

"Hai," I answered, looking at the tray. Salted porridge, the usual.

"I'll place it on the table, you go wash up."

"Hai."

I exited the room, and padded down to the washroom at the end of the corridor. Today I seemed to get more stares than normal, especially from the little crew cleaning the floor.

When I returned to my room, all cleaned for the day, I was surprised to find Nonō still there.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you still here? Is there something you want to tell me?" I asked, oops, did that come out too mature?

Nonō seemed used to it, "Just wanted to tell you Jiraiya-sama seemed to have found an adopter. He'll be visiting regularly from now on."

I tilted my head, interested. An adopter? "Who?"

"Oh," said Nonō lightly, "You've met him. Hatake Sakumo-sama."

* * *

To say I was shell-shocked was an understatement. After Nonō left, I ignored my breakfast and curled up in a ball on my bed.

Was that why Jiraiya made him in charge of my discharge from the hospital? Was all this planned by them?

I opened my palm and peeked out from under my hair. Mustering a little energy, I twirled the green around my hand. It started to whirl and spiral around my hand in a celestial dance, and I leaked a bit of my chakra, adding blue to the mix. What was the name of my kekkei genkai, anyway?

Since the first day I put on the blindfold, I had increasing difficulty with seeing the green around me. Everything had dulled to shades of grey, I could no longer stark white or pure black.

Trying to control the green was becoming harder and more taxing.

I didn't tell Nonō or Tsunade, but I could already emit chakra from all points of my body and my chakra reserves was increasing. I've started doing the normal stretches and warm-ups every night, picking exercises from martial arts class I vaguely remembered, and training my dexterity and hand-eye coordination. All I need now was a brush and ink pot and I'll be ready to re-start the calligraphy exercises Mother taught me.

Why was I stuck into the main characters right off the bat? Why couldn't I be a normal ninja (as normal as they come, at any rate) and be cannon fodder for the rest of my life? And now, sticking me in with one of the most distinguished ninja families the village has ever known. Looks like my assumption of the higher ups wanting me to become a shinobi wasn't wrong. My bloodline was powerful, and I knew there was a war looming on the horizon.

Eventually I ventured outside after finishing my breakfast, namely bringing the bow to the kitchen. The dishwasher looked at me disdainfully when I pass her the bow three hours after her washing time, but I ignored it. Glare all you want, it's not going to change the fact that you'll have to wash that.

I headed out to the yard behind the longhouse. In my time here, I rarely went out, mainly because there wasn't anything of interest out there.

The orphanage was situated at the edge of the village, farthest away from the Hokage Tower, so after a little clearing it became the crowded woods, and I walked into it, but not so far that I lost view of the orphanage. Outdoor activity time was long over, and the sun beat down mercilessly at this time of the day. Slipping into the shade, I reached up my hands and after some hesitation, took off my blindfold.

It felt like a veil was lifted from my sight, literally. The world sprang into sharp focus, the colors sparked to life. Green circled me in a spritely dance, as though welcoming the return of my sight. The greys and whites and blacks became distinguishable again.

I took a deep breath, and let out a happy huff of laughter.

I glanced at the piece of black cloth in my hands suspiciously, then shrugged. Whatever.

I looked up into the trees, and as usual the leaves blocked further view of the sky or the green. There was a sudden rustling, and unconsciously, I tensed, head swivelling towards the sound.

And let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when it turned out to be just a squirrel. The little grey and black animal sat on a branch in clear view, and nibbled on a nut while staring at me. I blinked back at its beady black eyes, and for a moment I smiled, thinking somehow animals are immune to my eyes, then the little squirrel chattered, shivered, then right in front of my eyes, shrivelling like a dry husk and bursting like a sack full of blood.

My shoulders sagged and I closed my eyes, and I heard a scary thing.

There was a gasp, a very human gasp, from behind me.

Despite the slightly nauseous feeling in my stomach and a bad taste in my mouth, I turned around to look.

The boy with the smudge on his nose was staring at me, eyes wide with fear—

I clamped a hand over my eyes and hissed, sarcastically, "Isn't this the part where you scream and run for help?"

And scream he did, nearly tripping over his own feet (I could tell by the sheer amount of rustling he caused) in his haste to get back to the orphanage, where there weren't freaky Medusa girls who liked to explode small animals in her spare time.

"Note to self, never try that again in the near future," I muttered, re-tying my blindfold. The moment the cloth covered my eyes, the nausea settled, and I breathed easier.

* * *

It was almost evening that Jiraiya came again. He arrived when we were finishing dinner, and he stalked into the dining hall and picked me up by my collar like a cat, and hauled me out.

I yelped when he plucked me from my seat, very probably my single loudest noise, but quietened when I caught a glimpse of his face. Oh boy, was I in big trouble.

When I for back earlier in the day, Nonō called me aside, and made me apologise to the boy with the smudge on his nose ("Yoroku," said Nonō sternly, "His name is Yoroku, not Smudge."). I frowned, and opened my mouth to argue, hey, I didn't do anything! but at Nonō's glare, apologised, albeit bitterly.

Looking at Jiraiya, who had now placed me down for me to walk by myself, I wondered how he was going to reprimand me. After all, he never told _me _to not take off the blindfold. He probably just assumed I knew not to. Besides, how did one scold a three-year-old for something they most likely didn't know they did?

Ah well. Screwed, I am.

He must have sensed my distress, because he slowed down enough to tell me, "You're not in serious trouble."

…define 'serious' please. You're giving me butterflies in my stomach.

I didn't realise I spoke out loud until he stopped and looked at me weirdly. "Re-phrase, you're not in trouble."

I kept silent, giving myself a mental slap.

It wasn't until we left the orphanage and ventured into the village proper, heading for a big evil-looking (because it was made of only grey, nothing else) building did I dare to ask, "Where are we going, Jiraiya-sama?"

He looked down at me and chortled. "So I only had to be a little scary for you to start treating me with respect?"

Thinking back, I never actually called him. All I did was tug at his sleeve or hair to get his attention, and to him that must have been disrespect…this day just keeps getting better.

The building had a spartan interior, and Jiraiya made a beeline for the counter and said to the receptionist, "The sealing room I booked in the morning please."

The woman smiled and passed him a slip of paper. He pocketed it, thanked her, and beckoned me to follow him

Following Jiraiya down the stark grey hallway and feeling a bit cold in my yukata, I asked a variation of my former question, which, might I point out, he had not answered, "What are we doing?"

"Caught on quick, didn't you?" Jiraiya ruffled my hair with one hand. "We're doing calligraphy, Haiko."

* * *

**AN: Short chapter in comparison to the others, I know, but the next one would be long, I promise.**

**So.**

**Who's still reading? (XD)**

**About the beta thing, I'm looking for someone who understands the pre-canon characters very well, because every time I write Sakumo, I hit a gigantic road block. Help!**

**Remember us writers live off reviews so please drop one on your way down to the 'next chapter' button!**

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_**flower**_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: What I've always said~**

**Enjoy~**

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"Calligraphy?" I echoed, mystified. "What calligraphy?"

Jiraiya grinned but then sobered up, "Special calligraphy. Tell me, what did you do to the three Mist hunters the first time I met you?"

He turned a corner and stopped at the third door on the left. To my great surprise, Orochimaru was there, leaning against the door.

"Ah," he said when he saw us, then with a chin-jerk in my direction he asked Jiraiya, "Does she know?"

"Not yet, I'm gonna explain to her inside," said Jiraiya while I puzzled over his question.

"So that she can't run?"

"I'm not a sadist, unlike you."

"Ouch Jiraiya, that hurt, right here," I looked up in time to see Orochimaru pointing a finger at his temple.

Jiraiya opened the door and we entered the room.

It was a spacious, empty room, all white-grey walls and floor. The only thing present was a small desk with a bottle of different sized brushes, a inkstone, and a small scroll. Bright lights a curious shade of grey lined the edges of the high ceiling, casting no shadows. I looked around, confused.

"Haiko!" Jiraiya called. He and Orochimaru had seated themselves comfortably in a corner of the room, and I trotted over to them. "Sit, and answer my question. What did you do?"

I frowned, and Orochimaru raised an eyebrow. "I…don't quite know. I was panicked."

The snake sage did a double take.

Jiraiya on the other hand, only nodded. "Then the two times in the orphanage? Do you know what you did?"

Again I frowned. Were these questions leading somewhere? I shook my head.

The most I knew was that I could control the green. What the green was, why I could control them, why my eyes can see energy, were all questions I had no answers to.

He nodded in reply, "So what have you realised?"

I blinked several times and didn't answer, because I didn't know how to.

If it was any consolation, Orochimaru was staring at Jiraiya like he had grown another head. "You except a girl her age to understand what you're getting at?"

Excuse me, mister, I'm officially 20 and above, and I still don't get what he's getting at. Was this a societal problem? That I had lived a life in another world, therefore I've missed out several unspoken underlining meanings?

Jiraiya looked at him like 'duh' and Orochimaru sighed. He turned to me, "What he was trying to get you to realise was that your power is dangerous."

Oh.

Oh, I see.

Well, I knew that.

"And unchecked," added Jiraiya, "You can't control it, not at this age, not ever. Senko never knew how. Which leads us to why we are here."

I turned around to watch him as he stood up to walk over to the desk. He picked up a brush and waved it in the air.

"Haiko, what do you know about fūinjutsu?"

* * *

It turned out that Orochimaru was here to help, because the seal associated with my kekkei genkai was very complex and very volatile.

Jiraiya and Orochimaru explained, in layman terms, the concept of sealing, and I listened with rapt interest. It was a concept foreign to me, almost like alchemy. Sealing contorted the notion of reality, creating pockets of space that isn't physical, pulled effects out of nowhere, triggered what would otherwise be known as chemical reactions that theoretically couldn't be true. Sealing was like magic, as much as chakra was spiritual.

Then they got to the topic of my eyes.

Like I had suspected, the green I had been seeing was the energy of nature, pure, raw, unchecked energy, and the blue was each person's chakra system. They explained that as I hone my chakra, my sight would sharpen. Eventually I would be able to see, like the Byakugan of the Hyūga, a person's chakra system down to each individual loop, and each tendril of nature energy. However physical obstacles would always block me, like normal vision. The monochrome vision was my body's way of adjusting to seeing raw energy, by giving up the ability to see natural colors.

"Think literal seeing is believing," Orochimaru offered.

"Yes," said Jiraiya, unfurling the scroll to reveal sets and sets of seals with the kanji for 'ink' on them. "For you, your eyes are the instrument in which you control the energy. So, if you can't see them, then you can't control them. Eye contact is vital, isn't it?"

"When we seal your ability to see energy, we would be sealing your ability to manipulate them," Orochimaru continued as he, along with Jiraiya, started to unseal the inksticks.

"For now, your body still reacts badly to energy manipulation. We are just going to seal the ability permanently for a while, and when your chakra system has settled, we will tweak the seal so that you can control it," said Jiraiya, beginning to rub the inkstick on the inkstone. Orochimaru unsealed a trickle of fresh water onto the stone.

A spark of realisation hit me. "Kaa-san had the same, hadn't she? She had those markings around her eyes. I didn't think too much of it then."

Then that also meant she changed it at least once, because the seal in my memories was different from the funeral picture.

The adults glanced at each other discreetly. They must be still wary of bringing up that topic around me.

"Eh," said Jiraiya at length, rolling up the scroll. "Senko underwent sealing, like now."

They seemed to have just assumed I had no objections…which I didn't, but it would've felt better if they just asked. Jeez.

"If you would move to the center of the room," Orochimaru pointed to a spot for me to sit. "Did you wear anything under your yukata?"

I wore a wire-mash, so I nodded.

"Do you mind if you took off the yukata?" Jiraiya waved an inked brush in my direction.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I mused, as I pulled off the robe and folded it neatly, passing it to an amused Orochimaru.

I padded over to sit at the point Orochimaru had told me.

"Put your hands on the ground," Jiraiya said, following me, "Straighten your arms and close your eyes. This is going to take a long time, but can we trust you not to move?"

I nodded mutely, and he started to write on my face.

Heh-heh, calligraphy indeed.

The brush went over both my eyes, and elsewhere, I suspected Orochimaru was writing on the ground.

A little while later, when Jiraiya moved down to write on my arms, he told me I can open my eyes.

When I did, I saw kanji and symbols spiralling out with me in the center, crawling all over the floor.

Orochimaru was working from outside in, and Jiraiya connected the words on my arm with the words on the ground, and started to write in a circle.

Waiting for them to finish the whole seal took some while, as they painstakingly covered nearly every inch of the room with their ink, even up the walls at some places.

"Alright, I'm going to start the sealing. Remember, close your eyes," said Jiraiya, placing down the brush and stepping gingerly into the sealing circle, careful to not smudge the symbols.

I closed them, and a few seconds later felt Jiraiya's calloused hands cover my eyes.

I couldn't see anything when the sealing started, but I felt the raw power vibrating in the air. A cool tickling sensation washed across my face from my arms and centered around my eyes. Was that the seal moving?

Jiraiya removed his hands, and stepped back.

"Open your eyes, what do you see?" he said.

I opened them, having not realized the sealing was over so quickly, and looked around. Light grey walls, the floor a shade of greyish white, then I turned around.

The streaks below Jiraiya's eyes were red, and his skin was skin-color, not the greyish white that dominated my old world. His flak jacket was forest green, and the long-sleeved undershirt was a distinct shade of dark blue, with the circular swirl red.

Orochimaru didn't change much, but his eyes were yellow, and his markings had turned purple.

In exchange, I could no longer see the energy in the room, but I still felt a smile spreading on my face.

I could see colors again!

"Oh, now that is interesting," Jiraiya suddenly said, bending to peer at my face. "Look, Orochimaru, look at the seal."

The black-haired man walked over, curious.

"Hm," he said, "Maybe its because of the inherent power distribution?"

They lost me when they descended into geek talk.

* * *

Orochimaru was the one, surprisingly, to send me back to the orphanage. Walking through the village at night out to the orphanage with my vision normal, I was surprisingly disoriented. Everything was dark shades now, and without the tendrils of energy drifting about I for a while could not steer myself right. The street lights with their white glow was too bright, making the dark around them thicker, and because of them I almost walked into several walls, but Orochimaru made sure I didn't.

The orphanage was a dark splotch, except the orange light emitting from a slightly opened back door.

Nonō, with her blond hair and white clothes, was up and out, but when she saw Orochimaru and me, her smile dropped a tiny bit.

"Orochimaru-sama," she bowed, when we reached her, "I'm sorry to say that Haiko might not be able to stay on much longer. The child she frightened told other children what happened, and the staff got wind of it. When they realised why Haiko wore a blindfold, they were adamant she no longer stays with us."

Orochimaru frowned, and whispered back in a harsh voice, "Haiko has sealed her power now, she won't hurt anybody. She will never hurt anybody."

"I apologise," Nonō bowed low again. "I tried reasoning with the staff, but being civilians they believed otherwise, and would not risk the safety of the children."

Orochimaru scowled, and for a moment in the flicker of the orange candlelight I saw a shadow or his future (past?) self flit over his face.

"Orochimaru-sama," I tugged on his pant leg. Both adults looked down, and Orochimaru hurriedly assured me '-san' was enough. "I don't mind. I already have an adopter, right? The other children don't, Nonō-san's right, I should move out soon, so that I don't take up space."

Nonō looked very uncomfortable, and Orochimaru just sighed. "I'll ask Sakumo-san to visit more and sign the papers faster."

He then ushered me into my room and bid me good night before leaving.

* * *

With my new vision, the world suddenly seemed extremely interesting. When I woke up the next morning, I spent a while just gazing at the wooden ceiling, admiring the patterns I previously couldn't see very well. I spent a good half of my time in the washroom amusing myself as I named one color after the other.

The corridor to the dining hall was a different shade of brown than my room's wood, so I took an extra long time to reach the dining hall.

There was the usual morning chatter in the hall, but it ceased the moment I was visible in the doorway. The boy whom I had apologised to yesterday leapt up and shouted, loud and clear, "That's her! That's the freak!"

All eyes turned on me, about thirty or so, and whisperings started like hissing snakes.

Bunch of narrow-minded bigots. I ignored them, instead staring straight at the boy with the smudge on his nose.

When my gaze met his, he flinched.

I went over to where the lady handed out breakfasts, and she passed me a cold bow of porridge.

Taking the tray, I opted for a table far away from the rest of the children, who were staring at me with wary gazes.

Turning my back on them, I started on my food.

Without the blindfold, my hair fell in my face. Blowing the strands of hair away so that I could eat, I toyed with the notion of getting a hair-cut.

* * *

"Haiko?" A little while after breakfast, Nonō poked her head through my doorway. I was puzzling over the scroll Mother left me. Now that I could see colors, I saw that it was different from the other scrolls. This one was wrapped with a red cover, the others was plain. It wouldn't open, and there wasn't any words written on it, or any instructions. "Hatake-sama is waiting in the visitor's room."

My head snapped up, scroll forgotten, "We have a visitor's room?"

"Eh," Nonō cracked a smile, "The Sannin just happens to bypass that particular procedure."

I raised an eyebrow, but followed her out.

In the visitor's room, Hatake Sakumo had not changed with the addition of colors. His hair remained a silvery-white, and his eyes still its obsidian black. Only his clothing took on a different hue, and I could see that that sleeve was white with red markings on its hem.

For a while I wondered how old Kakashi was, given that Sakumo's very much alive, then decided it didn't matter.

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**AN: There you are, 5th chapter, ended a little abruptly, but I really have not much idea how to write Sakumo, if anyone has a suggestion, do tell me!**

**Constructive criticism is very much welcomed! Please do review!**

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_**flower**_


	6. Chapter 6

Hello fellas! Sorry this isn't a chapter post, but I've looked through my previous chapters, and realized maybe I've left too much to assumption. I've also realized my pace was waaay too fast to be comfortable, and I didn't introduce anything properly at all. There's also point-of-view issues, so I'm going to overhaul the entire 5 chapters. Needless to say it's going to take some time, so please be patient with me! .

I promise I'll work on the story and make it a better read for everyone! So if you have anything to say about my writing style or anything else, like characterisation, description, or grammar, please do drop a review and tell me! Thank you for bearing with my crappy writing until now!

I'll try my best to write a good story!

_~flower_


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